


ab·solve

by BoyGirlBothNoneImTheUniverse



Series: Naruto Time Travel AUs [17]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Bisexuality, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), References to Depression, Sexual Identity, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Uchiha Madara-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyGirlBothNoneImTheUniverse/pseuds/BoyGirlBothNoneImTheUniverse
Summary: Instead of waking up on a battlefield as shinobi from all the nations stare at him with fear, he awakens to bird song and a cool spring breeze curling around his frame. MadaTobi Time Travel fix-it
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara, Uchiha Madara & Uchiha Obito
Series: Naruto Time Travel AUs [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1163957
Comments: 75
Kudos: 483





	1. i. (is it all an illusion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watch Your Back - Sam Tinnesz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not starting another madatobi fic without finishing my kitsune!madara fic what are you even talking about? hahahahha...
> 
> edit: did some tense changes.

* * *

**ab·solve**

* * *

_((ab·solve_

/əbˈzälv,əbˈsälv/

verb

_set or declare (someone) free from blame, guilt, or responsibility.))_

**i. (is it all an illusion)**

Madara didn't see what he had become for a long, long time.

He would like to shove all of the blame onto Zetsu's immoral shoulders, but he knew he couldn't. He knew that it was his insecurities that drove him further into depression; his own volatile nature that made all those around him wary and distrustful.

He was the one that ordered Hashirama to kill his brother or kill himself. He burned with grief and he uttered the harsh words that almost ended the last line keeping him afloat. Madara stopped him, sure, told him to forget it.

Yet Madara still burned on the inside. He smoldered as Konoha took form around him. He breathed pain and carried the weight of broken dreams on his shoulders. He felt like a forgotten toy as everyone managed to move on without him. As his clan grew, as couples got married and children were born, he remained stagnant in a depression of his own making.

He burned himself with bitter hatred and Zetsu didn't have to lift a finger until the very end. Madara doesn't know himself as well as he thought he did, not after Zetsu's many manipulations, but he liked to think he never would've left Konoha if he had been left to his own devices. He could see himself living in seclusion at the very back of the Uchiha clan; retired from shinobi work and clan responsibilities. He could've drunk himself to death that way, lonely and unfulfilled without a single sympathetic soul in sight. Instead, he found that damn stone tablet and he read it. He read it and he believed in some nonsensical dream that he could one day have Izuna back.

He was a fool.

He believed everything was his idea, that he had the world in his grasp and that they didn't even realize it. He found Obito and he knew that this was the piece of the puzzle he was missing, the general that would lead his army to absolution.

Madara thought about that little boy now. That little boy who was loud and determined and so in love with his best friend that he pushed himself beyond his limits in the hope that he could return to her just that much sooner.

He pictured Obito and he wanted to slit his own throat in at the disgust he feltfor himself.

He remembered the looks he received before he left the village. The wary hesitance that the village handled him with. He could picture the suspicion that flowed through his clan as his mood grew darker and darker. He could see the moment when clan children stopped coming up to him, gapped-tooth grins on display. He could pinpoint the moment Kagami, the little boy who used to smile so sweetly up at him, hesitated to approach him.

Madara had sneered at them all, enraged that they would suspect him of something untoward. That they would hesitate to let children around him in fear of what harm he might cause them. He would mutter to himself at night, still angry after another day spent under scrutiny. He didn't like being watched with suspicion, but their heavy gazes were nothing next to the idea that he would hurt kids.

Madara wanted peace to protect kids; the very idea that he would stoop so low as to attack the children under his protection was absurd!

And yet, while Madara had stewed in his futile hatred, he had done the exact thing he had been accused of all those years ago.

Madara never hurt Kagami or any other child while he was in the village, but he definitely hadn't held back on Obito. He had dragged that boy from under that rock and he had nursed him back to health. He had calculated how to heal him, how to get him strong, and then he had told Zetsu to break him.

All Obito talked about was returning home and Madara needed to teach him that there was no home left to return to. The day Obito returned covered in blood and broken, Madara felt so smug he actually laughed for the first time in decades.

Madara had become the monster he had always refused to believe he was.

Then he died because he was _old_ and he awaited the moment Obito and Zetsu resurrected him. He wasn't physically awake, no consciousness to really speak of, but he had brief moments of awareness that spoke of something else beyond death. It was during one of these odd aware moments that Madara caught a glimpse of his future.

Time wasn't real; not to the dead, anyway. Time was not linear and it repeated and looped back on itself. When you're dead, there was no reason why you couldn't view these twists and turns, caught in the current until its natural end.

It was when Madara caught a glimpse of an adult Obito next to himself that he truly understood the impact of watching the future unfold before his eyes.

Her name was Kaguya and she snuffed the life out of Madara with something as simple as a thought.

Her plot was revealed to the large mass of shinobi facing off against her and Madara watched as what he thought to be salvation was secretly damnation in disguise. He saw Obito make his own decisions for the first time in decades and he saw the power of reincarnation at work when two brothers stand together instead of apart.

He saw all of his hard work go up in ashes and he realized that none of it ever really belonged to him. That he had chased a silly dream on the words of a false tablet and a will that wasn't even his own.

Madara didn't see the destruction he had caused until it was too late; he was dead and now he wished he would stay that way in fear of the future he saw before him. If he was resurrected, he could not guarantee that he would remember any of the things he had become aware of while dead. What if he forgot and he followed this broken path? Madara would go down as the villain of the story he was just a footnote in.

Madara, for the first time in years, was _scared._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D yes? D: no? :{| mustache?


	2. ii. some sign of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Far From Home (The Raven) - Sam Tinnesz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did NOT think this would be something people would like? I posted it just to get it out of my head, but apparently people want more?
> 
> lets get one thing straight before we continue forward: I will never EVER have a consistent upload schedule! Do NOT expect updates to happen all that regularly. I've got some other stuff going on and I still have to go to work even with whats going on in the world right now, so I don't have that much free time.
> 
> edit/ did some tense changes

* * *

**ab·solve**

* * *

**ii. some sign of life**

Instead of waking up on a battlefield as shinobi from all the nations stare at him with fear, he awakened to bird song and a cool spring breeze curling around his frame.

He inhaled fresh air, the smell of grass so overwhelming he could almost taste it on his tongue. He had become so used to dank, stale air, that this fresh air had caught in his lungs, ever-expanding as he tried to breathe as deeply as he could force himself to. He could feel the warmth of sunlight on his face, the subtle heat bringing life back into his bones. He kept his eyes closed for a second, taking it all in, before he finally opened his eyes to get a glimpse of the scene he had found himself in.

Grass danced around him, the bright green plants swaying in the light breeze. There was a pop of color in the distance where grass turned into flowers, but there was only green around him. The grass was tall enough to reach his chest when he sat up, his long hair gently pushed back by the welcoming breeze. To his left, there was the first beginnings of trees. The closer he looked, the more trees he saw. Madara glanced back at the open field to his right and then back to the forest. He quickly stood and made his way to the forest as fast as he could.

Madara grew up in a forest much like this one. Large trees with many green leaves were a welcome sight, a soothing balm to his anxious soul. He gained family and lost brothers in woods like these, a never-changing forest of history that lived for decades after he was gone.

Madara remembered.

He met Hashirama by a quiet stream surrounded by forest. He helped grow a village hidden within a forest's leafy branches. Then he left the safety of the forest and died in a tomb of dirt and rock.

Madara remembered the future he had glimpsed while he was dead. He knew the truth that was once so cleverly hidden from him. He knew Zetsu's true purpose and Kaguya's dark plans. He knew how foolish he was and he knew deep regret.

What he didn't know was where the hell he was. He saw himself wake against an army of allied shinobi. Not once did he see a serene meadow as gentle breeze disturbed the peace. He should be ignorant of Kaguya's plans. He should be fighting shinobi doing whatever they could to protect their homes.

_Should, should, should._

Madara meandered through this new forest, lost in both mind and body. He was in his early twenties. He could tell, immediately, because he felt _good_. His late twenties and early thirties were the time of dead brothers and the newly founded Konoha. He had a constant ache in his back by then, always accompanying the ache in his heart. He had been worn down and tired, fueled only by anger and spite.

Now he just felt—none of that. No cracking joints as he walked, no twinging ache in his shoulder as he swung an arm lazily. His eyes were clear and sharp, no distorted vision only stopped by Izuna's dying sacrifice. He felt young and relieved of grief for the first time in decades.

Even when he was resurrected in the future he saw, he had been in his thirties; the condition he had been in during his fated fight against Hashirama. He had bulked up months before the original fight, gaining muscle where once he was lean. The Uchiha fought like flames, dancing around with lean muscles and flexibility. They weren't the heavy muscle built Senju or the bulky Akimichi. Lean muscle was the Uchiha normal.

Why had he changed that? What made him decide that he wanted to change his entire fighting style? When did he become someone he couldn't even recognize?

Had Zetsu's manipulations truly done so much to him? Had he really forgotten who he was? Or was he simply so lost in his own importance that he simply ignored what he was doing? Ignoring the monster that was growing inside him? Opening his arms to the beast that had lived in his chest for so long?

Madara took in a deep breath, forest fresh air of leaves and wood overtaking his senses. The smell chased away his darkening mood, flashes of memory leaving him no longer sad, but nostalgic. Izuna's flushed face as he argued heatedly with a smirking Hikaku. Hashirama's obnoxious laugh as he ran from an enraged Tobirama. Little Kagami as he begged Madara for a ride on his shoulders.

There was still happy memories locked up within his mind. He was not only made of regret and bad decisions; there was happiness and laughter hidden inside him.

A crash of thunder startled him, his body flinching as the first drops of rain made their way through the heavy canopy above him. The rain was spring rain, still chilly from the leaving winter, but not as ice-cold as it would have been even a month ago. Madara grew up in a forest that regained its leaves in the early spring, always fighting to hold its leafy appendages in hand once more. The trees would bloom green and then the early spring rains would come for a week or two. The rest of spring would be sunny with only the slightest of drizzles.

The smell of wet wood and earth sent a pang through his chest as he continued on through the forest, the threat of tears a serious one. He could feel the stinging in his eyes as he slowly lost himself in the memory of his childhood. Of the cold winters and heavy snow. Of the humid summers and frizzy hair.

He was picturing Mito's crimson locks escaping her usually crisp hairstyle, the blush of impropriety on her cheeks as Hashirama smiled at her with a quirk of lips, when he reacted without thinking, already halfway up a random tree before he realized what he was doing.

He frowned, confused, but he continued on anyway, trusting his baser instincts as he climbed higher. He stopped when the branches threatened to break under his weight, his entire body hidden within the green surrounding him. His chakra was still burning low, not yet the inferno it would be once he had rested and started to regain his chakra. It took only a little effort to bring the spark so low it was unnoticeable amongst the general nature chakra that resided in all plant life.

Madara couldn't risk activating his Sharingan, not if he wanted to stay as hidden as his instincts were telling him to be, so instead he just strained his regular eyes as much as he could, attention locked onto the trees ahead of him.

A minute or two passed before he could finally hear the distinct sound of shinobi traveling through trees, the swishing of leaves giving them away. He huddled closer to the tree trunk, eyes narrowed as he picked up the direction they were coming from. It only took another second for him to sense their chakra signatures, both bright and warm.

He had to clamp a hand over his mouth when Izuna and himself flew past his hidden spot. He wanted to gasp, all oxygen leaving in a great exhale of shock. He didn't, suddenly very thankful he trusted his instincts. Madara could never forget Izuna's chakra, the familiarity of it a welcome memory. Madara knew Izuna's signature as well as his own, which was why he knew that the man beside Izuna was indeed _him_.

Madara watched them until they were out of sight, their signature slowly disappearing after them. He landed gracefully, shinobi skills preventing him from landing flat on his face as he stumbled when he tried to take a step in the direction they had been heading. He stopped, staring blankly after them, his heart ricocheting around in his chest.

It suddenly occurred to him that he never actually knew where he was when he woke up. He had assumed that it was sometime during or around when he should have been resurrected originally, the battle against the allied shinobi forces on the horizon. It hadn't occurred to him that he would wake up when Izuna was alive. He hadn't thought he would be confronted with _himself_.

If Madara had somehow found himself in the past, he realized, he couldn't continue being _Madara_. He needed to find out what year it was, where exactly he was, and then he needed a plan.

A real plan. One he came up with by himself. No influences from goddesses or dark wills. Just Madara, struggling to keep himself from falling apart.

Madara sighed, already skeptical, before he changed the direction he was going in, taking a sharp right. He didn't particularly want to know where he and his brother were coming from; either he'd run into the Uchiha compound or he'd stumble upon a finished mission. Both were not places Madara wanted to be with the floor still so shaky beneath him.

Decision made, Madara took his time walking down an unseen path, surrounded by memories of the past and an early spring shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here you go :) so now madara knows that 1. he's in the past! and that 2. there are TWO of him; past!madara and him. also sorry chapters arent longer ^^' I'm getting back into writing chaptered fic (what does this mean? who knows ) and I'm struggling lol
> 
> edit: thank you to nadezhdadolokhov for pointing out a spelling error! :)


	3. iii. there's no hiding place, not a secret safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Truth Hunts You Down - Sam Tinnesz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this isnt how this usually goes. it really isn't. i don't update this much. I DONT! also this fic isn't beta read every mistake is mine I claim it  
> edit/ changed some tenses

* * *

**ab·solve**

* * *

**iii. there's no hiding place, not a secret safe**

Madara woke up abruptly, a piercing headache making him groan out loud. His eyes felt crusted as he let out a tired moan, his back aching from sleeping on the hard ground below him. It took him a moment to realize that he hadn't woken up on his own. He had his exhaustion to thank for the fact that he didn't immediately lash out at the man staring down at him.

He was an older man, his clothes worn and threadbare. He raised an eyebrow when Madara's dry eyes meet his, a snort leaving him when Madara groaned and fell back to once more lay on the dirty ground.

"You enjoyin' your nap?" the man gruffly asked, his accent heavy.

"Where am I?" Madara asked, his voice croaking slightly as he tried to moisten his dry mouth.

"Y'ur in my shed," the man replied, once more nudging Madara with his foot. "Grab them sacks and follow me."

Madara stared at the man, utterly confused, before the man snorted and jerked his head to the side. Madara followed his motion and finally spied two large burlap sacks. The man turned and started to walk away before Madara really processed what was going on. He took a moment to just lie there before he gave one last groan, forcing himself to stand up. He gathered one sack in each arm, grunting as he heaved them onto his shoulders. He followed the man out of the shed, grimacing at the humid morning air.

Madara followed the man diligently, recognizing the fact that he had nothing better to do at that exact moment. He had traveled several miles that first day, meandering through the forest until he saw a break in the trees around dusk. He had been more mentally than physically exhausted, but his little time travel trip had left him more tired than he had ever been in his life. The second he had spied the little run-down shack, he had clambered inside and fallen to the dirt floor, passing out.

With how dark it had become, he wasn't surprised that he had missed the small house and accompanying lean-to barn. The house was the biggest building out of the three, though that wasn't saying much. The shed had enough room for Madara to sprawl out amongst mounds of burlap sacks, but that was about all it held. The lean-to, Madara quickly realized, was big enough to hold a single gray donkey and two troughs; one was half-filled with water and the other was sitting empty.

"Dump both bags into the trough; Deku eats like I've been starvin' him," the man told him, stopping in front of the old donkey.

Madara followed his instructions, opening both sacks and letting the tightly packed barley straw slide into the empty trough. Deku— _and what a name for a donkey_ , Madara couldn't help but comment in his head—brayed loudly, butting his head against the man's petting hand. Madara gathered the sacks in his arms and watched silently as the donkey slowly trotted over to start eating.

"Alright, I suppose it's our turn," the man said, leaving the lean-to. Madara hesitated to follow, uncertain, but the man _had_ said 'our'.

Madara followed him into the small home next to the lean-to, curiously looking around. There was only one other doorway in the home, clearly leading to a second room. Small, Madara noticed, but better than a single room home.

"Leave them by the door and take a seat," the man ordered, grunting as he moved around in a corner of the room.

Madara did as ordered, resting the bags on the ground by the door before taking a seat at the kotatsu in the middle of the room. He watched the man as he shuffled around the room muttering to himself.

"Eat," the man grunted, setting down three dishes in front of him in quick succession. The first was a small bowl of white rice, left out long enough that it was cold by now. The second bowl, Madara learned after taking a small bite, was some particularly bitter nattō. The last bowl, and the most appetizing by far, was a simple bowl of vegetable soup that smelled similar to the nutty shimeji mushroom. It wasn't a tasty sweet and tangy inarizushi, but it was better than getting served briny roe; it would do. Madara supposed that he should just be thankful that this stranger was willing to give him something to eat after he _technically_ trespassed and broke into one of his buildings.

"You got a name?" the man asked as he finished off his rice.

Madara, for about three seconds, _completely panicked_. He obviously couldn't tell the man the truth. He remembered why his mind was occupied for so long that he didn't even notice his body growing tired. He knew why he was so mentally exhausted: there was another _him_ running around. Madara, if he truly was in the past, had not woken up in his younger body. He was completely separated from his past self which meant that anything he did would have consequences for his past self. If Madara changed things, his entire future became unknown. It was not that the idea of changing things was bad. On the contrary, it sounded wonderful to not be destined to ruin the lives of those he cared about.

It was just—what would happen to Madara if he changed the past? Was he now completely separated from his past self's future, or did every step he took threaten the end of his existence?

"Fujio?"Madara eventually answered, the name coming out as more of a question than an answer. Madara winced at the sound, embarrassed at his lack of finesse. He was never that good at subterfuge; he wasn't an infiltrator. Madara was a powerhouse meant for the front-lines of battle. He was pretty good at assassinations as well, but all of his missions had been done after he watched from afar before striking. Never had he infiltrated a place in order to get closer to a target. Madara was just too _Madara_ to be any good at lying and being someone he was not.

The man snorted as he took a large gulp of his soup, shaking his head as he sent an amused look Madara's way. "I don't believe you," the man said. "I know what it looks like when someone is being untrue to themselves. My son was a lot like you," he elaborated. "His mother was an old hag," the man stopped briefly to laugh at his words, a fond look on his face. "She absolutely loathed me and the feeling was mutual. Tried to make our son into somebody he wasn't. For years they would fight. Tore my son up on the inside; he was always one of the good kids that tried to respect his parents and elders. Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore and he left the farm. That was twenty years ago, of course. I get a letter every year on my birthday, but I've never figured out where he went. My wife passed about ten years ago, but he still doesn't know because I have no way to tell him."

"The point of the story," the man stressed once he finished his soup, "is that I'm not gonna force you to tell me who you really are or why you decided my feed shed was the best place to bunker down for the night. Instead, I'm gonna politely insist you help me plant some carrots, share whatever story you feel like tellin' me, and then maybe I can help point you in whatever direction you're looking to go."

Madara finished his own food, silent in the face of the man's rather heartfelt speech. He had nothing to say, so he simply followed the man and did as he asked, digging small holes half a foot apart for the man to place seeds in.

"I was part of a clan," Madara started slowly, his mind at work. He couldn't tell the man the truth. Not only was being from the future far-fetched, but he would also sound like a lunatic. "I didn't want to stay with them any longer, so I left."

"You one of them shinobi?" the man asked.

"How did you know?" Madara asked, surprised.

"Spines too straight to be a civilian," the man answered.

Madara watched him, eyes narrowed. Would a civilian notice something like that?

The man snorted at Madara's look, a small chuckle escaping as he covered a seed with some dirt. "Don't know if you realized or not, but you wandered onto Nara land. Them bastards are lazy, but they sure are sharp. I've seen a woman go from napping away to stabbing some drunkard though the throat when he tried to take advantage. You all got that same straight back watchfulness."

"Huh," Madara repliec, unable to argue the man's point.

"Come on now, finish this and then help me move a couple more feed bags and then I'll point you in the direction of the Nara clan compound. They've been known to throw a lone shinobi a bone or two in their time. They might have some work for you to do."

So Madara did as the man asked, helping him finish his planting before carrying several more sacks around the farm.

"Word of advice?" the man started as they were finishing up, not bothering to get Madara's answer before continuing, "Should change your look up a bit. I'm just a civilian and even I know an Uchiha when I see one."

Madara froze for a moment before he sighed, giving the man a contrite shrug. "I suppose that's fair," Madara grumbled. He really was bad at hiding. Which meant he would have to put in some serious effort to no longer look like _Uchiha_ Madara. Madara bit his lip before he sighed once more, a grimace on his face. "You have anything sharp enough to cut hair?"

Madara frowned the entire time he waited for the man to search for his razor. His long hair had become a part of his self-image. His father hadn't been fond of his long hair. He had always sneered at it, telling Madara that it would get him killed one day. Tajima's hair was fairly spiky, resembling Izuna's hair. Madara's, however, resembled his mother's: if he wasn't careful, it would become a disaster area of tangles. It was a reminder of the woman who died all those years ago. While she hadn't been warm, per se, she had shown him more care than Tajima ever had.

The old man returned and then waved him away when he went to take the sharp iron razor from him. "How short do you want it?"

Madara swallowed back his initial reaction, about to insist that he didn't _want_ it cut at all. Eventually, he gave in to the inevitable, wincing slightly as the man tangled his fingers into his long, spiky locks. "Short."

The man hummed, watching him intently before he went behind Madara, hands separating Madara's hair into chunks. "My son had long hair too; for a while anyway. My wife insisted. He cut it a few months before he left. I was the one that had to fix the horrible hack job he did."

The old man, who Madara had finally realized he never got the name of, started to chop off swaths of his hair. Large chunks fell to the ground, a literal weight being lifted off his head. It took almost an hour for the man to get Madara's hair into a shape he felt satisfied with.

"Come on, up you get," the man urged, sweeping loose hair off of Madara's shoulders.

Madara followed after him, dazed at how odd he felt. Madara had had his hair long since his teen years. His head felt too light now that the weight of it was gone. He was so used to working with his thick hair. The man led him behind the house and to a small pond, the water surprisingly clear.

"Go on and take a look," the man urged.

Madara approached the pond and had to do a double-take, surprised at his own reflection. His hair was _short_. It was even shorter than when he had met Hashirama for the first time, though not by that much. He looked—different. The cut wasn't bad, the old man did indeed know how to make a decent haircut, but it sat oddly on his face. He was so used to his hair falling in his eyes and being able to hide behind a curtain of hair. His entire face was now exposed and it left him looking vulnerable. Vulnerable in a way he hadn't been since his youth.

"Thank you," Madara replied, his voice soft. "Ah, I actually never got your name."

The man let out a loud laugh at that, an amused grin on his face. "The name's Haru!"

Madara helped move some more feed around afterward, doing his best to adjust to his lack of hair. He could feel the wind and the sun on his sensitive neck and he shivered slightly, unused to it. He would have to be careful once the weather grew hotter; there was a serious chance he would burn.

"Alright, you've done enough," Haru eventually told him around noon. Madara wiped his sleeve across his forehead, grimacing slightly at the feeling of dirt being smeared along his face. "If you want to blend in more," Haru added, taking the empty sacks out of Madra's slack grip, "I'd recommend doin' somethin' about your colorin'. You still look like an Uchiha."

Madara grudgingly nodded because Haru was right; even with short hair, he looked too much like an Uchiha. Maybe not his exact twin, since his face was usually obscured, but definitely a dead-ringer for a cousin.

"Thank you," Madara told him once he was ready to leave. Haru offered him some dried fish for the road and when Madara tried to refuse, the older man insisted, not taking no for an answer.

"You remind me too much of my boy," the man explained when Madara asked why he was been so helpful. "I knew he didn't feel like he could trust me with who he was, so he decided to leave. I learn from my mistakes."

Madara bowed, respectfully wishing the older man goodbye. Haru returned the gesture with amusement and some final advice: "Let them know I was the one that sent you over. That should get you to the Nara compound mostly intact."

Madara waved as he left, a small smile on his face. He never got to interact much with individual civilians. Most of his time had been spent fighting other shinobi clans or being hired by rich civilian clans to assassinate their enemies. It had been nice getting a peek into the life of a solitary farmer.

"Fujio-san," Haru stopped him just before he headed into the trees. "If perchance you happen to run into someone that looks like me, but younger, and named Haruko, would you let him know that his father wants to see his son before he passes on?"

Madara, sympathetic, promised to keep an eye out. With that done, he headed in the direction Haru had indicated. His first order of business, of course, was finding a job to make money. He was good enough to get a high paying job, but he knew he couldn't be that good if he wanted to stay hidden in plain sight. He wasn't part of a clan anymore, so he didn't have the protection of someone watching his back. He needed money for food, as well as a small pot of chakra ink. He had a vague idea of how to change his coloring up in order to hide his distinctly Uchiha features. The most important reason he needed money, however, was simple. He needed quality armor.

With what he had in mind, he knew he was going to need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you: did...did you just cUT MADARAS HAIR!?
> 
> me: ...n-no? (yeah I totally fuckin did ahh)
> 
> so, I've introduced you to old man Haru. will he appear again? eehhh probably not. was he important? absolutely! his son will eventually appear as well. for only like a chapter, but still...


	4. iv. watch out 'cause here I come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watch Out (Here I Come) - Sam Tinnesz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this wont be the regular update schedule. it wont! i just-i have so much to say about madara and his adventure.
> 
> edit: changed some tenses

* * *

**ab·solve**

* * *

**iv. watch out 'cause here I come**

Madara was intercepted on his way toward the compound. The forest was serene around him and he had the assurance that for once he was not there to cause trouble; he had Haru's word to give him some kind of protection. After all, a farmer on a large clan's lands would have to be trustworthy to a certain amount.

He was curiously eyeing some interesting plants lining the path among the trees when a deer, of all things, stepped onto the path. It was a startlingly white color with eyes that shone an almost gold color.

Madara blinked as it just stood in front of him, a sense of unease falling over him. It just kept staring at him, the doe unmoving as Madara tried to slowly inch his way around the deer. She kept her eyes locked onto Madara the entire time. The second he took a step past her, she let out a loud braying noise, the scream so loud it echoed in the trees around them.

Madara cursed, startled by the shrill sound. An answering call, this one far deeper, answered from farther into the forest. The deer stamped its foot a few times, flinging its head back as it took several steps toward him.

Madara's eyes widened as he started to panic, quickly backing away from the odd sight.

This situation should be easy to solve: it was an animal, not a shinobi. Madara wasn't someone who could be felled by a deer. However, this was clearly a _Nara deer_. Nara deer were notorious for protecting the clan forest and compound. They were not chakra animals in the sense that summons were; they were connected to the land in a way that didn't really have to do with chakra. He couldn't attack one without gaining the wrath of the entire Nara clan.

Madara had unwittingly managed to set off the Nara alarm system.

"Shh!" Madara hissed at it, wincing when the doe screamed back at him. "I'm just here to see if there are any open missions!"

The doe stamped again, her cry answered once more by the deeper call in the forest. It was getting steadily closer, Madara realized. This white doe was already freaky enough; he would hate to see what kind of creature it was calling to for aid.

"Haru-kun sent me!" Madara shouted as a last resort, already readying himself to strike down the incoming animal.

A large black buck shot out of the bushes behind the doe, stopping with a heavy exhale at Madara's words. Its coat was a sooty coal color while its eyes were the same almost-but-not-quite gold that the female sported.

"Well, why didn't you just say so?"

Madara cursed once more, spinning around. He was truly off his game these past few days; he needed to get himself together before long or he wouldn't live long enough to see any of his plans come to fruition. He stared at the empty space beside him before he slowly looked down.

"You're a child," Madara stated neutrally, staring at the small boy before him.

The kid was tiny, his little ponytail barely held back with how short it was. The kid was kitted out in the typical Nara shinobi uniform and Madara had to fight the scowl that threatened to cover his face. He hated seeing children this young already outfitted for war.

"Satomi-sama had to turn away work earlier today! She can probably give you the information!"

Madara grimaced at the mention of Nara Satomi. Sage save him from the whirlwind that was the current Nara clan head! Nara Satomi was one of the most intelligent people Madara had ever had the misfortune to meet. She was also, against everything her clan was known for, the _loudest_. She was boisterous and bright and unfazed by the chaos that existed in the world. She was the antithesis to the rest of her clansmen and it had made her one of the greatest leaders the clan had ever had.

Now accompanied by a clan member, Madara begrudgingly followed the small child further along the path.

"Say, what's your name?" the boy asked as they walk along.

Madara glanced down at him, carefully keeping pace with the boy's shorter strides. It infuriated him to see a child ready for battle; it also made him sad to see how welcoming the boy had been. Sure, he had the deer to protect him, but how much good would they be now that Madara was being escorted into the heart of the forest where the Nara clan resides? This child didn't even seem to realize how fraught this situation could turn if Madara had any ill intentions.

"Fujio," Madara responded after a moment.

"I'm Enchū! I turn five in three days!" the young boy shared, unprompted.

Madara controlled his expression as Enchū revealed his age. He was already left stewing at the situation he had found himself in, he didn't need to outwardly show how uncomfortable this was making him.

"Nara Enchū! What do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm showing Fujio-san to Satomi-sama!" Enchū whined as a furious woman approached. Her dark hair was cut short and hung limply around her face. "He's looking for work!"

"And who gave you permission to bring him so far into our territory?" the woman demanded, shooting a glare towards Madara.

Madara very carefully did not move an inch under her suspicious gaze.

"Ren-sensei says I'm old enough to patrol!" Enchū insisted, his pouting counterproductive to the point he was trying to make to the angry woman.

"Well, I _don't care_ what 'Ren-sensei' says! I'm your mother and what I say goes! Go back to the compound."

"But—"

"Now!"

Enchū let out a groan before he childishly lowered his head, dragging his feet as he walked away in the direction they had been headed in before they stopped. Madara could _maybe_ see the outline of a wall in the distance, but he didn't try to look very hard with the way Enchū's mom was watching him.

"State your business," she demanded, eyes narrowed.

"My name is Fujio," Madara offered with a respectful bow. He made sure not to meet her eyes, knowing full well that a rogue shinobi was considered inferior to a clan shinobi. "Haru-san gave me shelter last night and when I explained that I was looking for shinobi work, he mentioned the Nara clan. He said that you occasionally get jobs that you don't take on and that you pass them along to others in need of work?"

The woman grunted, still suspicious, but she seemed to buy his explanation. Which was good since it was the only one he had.

"Fine," the woman scoffed. "A small merchant caravan requested a capable shinobi as protection just this morning. Satomi-sama turned it down, but promised to keep an ear out for anyone willing to take the job."

"Thank you," Madara replied, keeping his waist bent in his bow.

"Straighten up," the woman snapped, "I'll escort you to the village they told us to find them in. If you cause any trouble whatsoever, I'll have you bound up in shadows faster than you can say _illegitimate Uchiha spawn_."

Madara openly grimaced at that particular barb, inclining his head to let the Nara woman know that he acknowledged her deduction that he was an Uchiha. He really, _really_ needed to sort out his looks before he was seen by someone who could connect him with his past self.

Madara followed her for a while, keeping pace with her leaps as they ran through the trees. They came upon a small village soon enough, carts rolling through the dirt street as people went about their business.

"The head of the caravan is staying in Yasu-san's 'inn'," the woman told him. "Big building in the center of the village."

Madara nodded, not surprised when the woman left without another word. He watched her go before he shook his head, scoffing at himself. He immediately headed toward the big wooden building, greeted by a peculiarly dressed man at the front desk.

"Hello, how may Yasu-kun help young master today?" the man greeted while batting his eyelashes, his flamboyant voice high as he smiled at Madara.

Madara stopped and stared, his face flushing as he took in the man's appearance. While every other civilian he had seen had been dressed in the typical muted greens and browns, the man before him was dressed in a rich blue fabric, a stunning complement to his tan complexion and dark brown hair. His light hazel eyes sparkled mischievously as he gave Madara a flirtatious wink.

"I-I-," Madara coughed, horrified at his own stuttering reaction. "I was told that I would find a, um, merchant caravan staying here?"

"Oh! You must be looking for Yoshi-san! Yes, he's a repeat customer of ours. He should be done soon enough if you'd like to, ah, _be entertained_ while you wait?" Yasu chuckled, a seductive list finding its way into his words.

"No!" Madara shouted, wincing at how high pitched his voice had gone. "No, I'll go acquaint myself with the rest of the caravan. Um, where would they happen to be?"

Yasu chuckled, clearly amused by his flustered reactions, before he waved a hand, an elaborate fan held firmly in his grasp. "I believe some of them are gathered in Hifumi-kun's sake shop. Tell him I sent you there and you'll get a free cup," Yasu added, wiggling his eyebrows during the last sentence.

"Thank you!" Madara bowed quickly before abruptly turning and leaving, desperate to be anywhere but under Yasu's heated gaze.

Madara found his way to Hifumi's shop and, reluctantly, told him he was sent by Yasu. Hifumi was far older than Yasu and while Madara would usually expect such an elderly man to frown upon someone of Yasu's profession, Hifumi simply cackled at Madara's startled expression. "Yasu only ever sends the pretty ones," Hifumi explained, handing Madara a free cup of sake.

Madara suddenly felt the urge to down the cup in one gulp, his face beet red, but he restrained himself, taking calming breaths as he slowly sip[ed on his drink.

Madara had known about _what_ he was for a long time. Women were beautiful and it wasn't that Madara didn't look at them, so much as it was that men caught his eye far more than the fairer sex. He remembered being slightly stunned at Mito's beauty when first meeting her; and yet it was, of all people, Senju Tobirama that caught his eye more often than not. Madara didn't particularly like Hashirama's younger brother, nor did Tobirama like him for that matter, but Madara had _eyes_ , for kami's sake.

So yes, Madara had known about his own sexuality for a long time now. He had, however, never been confronted with such flagrant flirting by another man before. Madara, throughout his first life, had been inexperienced. He was not a virgin, but he could also count the number of sexual experiences he had had on two fingers. Someone so unashamed showing interest in him, regardless of the fact that it was clearly Yasu's job to flirt with paying customers, flustered him faster than anything else he had ever encountered before.

"Excuse me, are you the shinobi looking for work?"

"Oh, yes!" Madara choked down the rest of his drink, turning to face the portly man that had approached his table. "I assume you must be Yoshi-san?"

"Tanaka Yoshi, at your service! Some fellow merchants and I are looking to travel into the Land of Wind and we were hoping for an escort on the way there."

"I would be glad to do help," Madara agreed, eager to finally start making some money.

"We don't plan on making any more stops in villages along the way, but we have an extra bedroll you can use. We're also willing to provide meals if you're willing to accept a reduced payment rate of 80,000 ryō."

Madara, hummed, agreeing quickly. 80,000 ryō was what a low paying B-rank mission would pay. Nowhere near the amount he would need for good battle-ready armor, but a decent start.

"Great!" Yoshi exclaimed once Madara confirmed his willingness to take the job. "We're staying here for one more night before heading off at the crack of dawn! Here, have a drink on me! Do you want to use the bedroll tonight?"

Madara declined to use the bedroll that night, quickly deciding to simply sleep up in the trees like he used to as a child. He did, however, accept the drink the man offered, toasting him as they both took a long sip from the cups in front of them.

Madara only spent a few more minutes in the sake shop after Yoshi lift, thanking Hifumi. He eyed the tree line once he left the sake shop, eyes landing on a sturdy looking pine tree. He scaled the trunk easily, taking familiar comfort in the fragrant air that surrounded him. He quickly found himself drifting off.

Madara awoke to the early morning sun and dew dampened hair. He felt refreshed, finally shaking off some of the sludge he had been trudging through the previous day. He made his way back to Yasu's inn, carefully keeping his distance as he waited for Yoshi to exit.

"Ah, young master," Yasu purred as he exited the building in a thin yukata, a lecherous grin on his face.

"Yasu-san," Madara greeted awkwardly, at first trying to keep his composure. He lost it immediately though when he blinked in surprise, his head tilting curiously as he took in Yasu's sudden change of appearance. He was still indecently dressed, which Madara did his best to ignore, but surprisingly, he looked different from the day before. While his face was still the same, his hair which had once been a dark brown was now a light auburn color. Madara curiously searched for any signs of genjutsu and was surprised to see that the colors looked to be natural and not chakra influenced. "How did you get your hair color to change like that?"

"Oh, that old trick?" Yasu laughed as he gestured for Madara to come closer. Madara, far too curious now, walked closer, resting against the building as Yasu stretched beside him.

"I put lemon juice in my hair and then sat in the sun for a few hours. Then I put in a henna hair mask for an hour or two. Do you like my new look? I think I look rather fierce as a redhead."

"Do you think you could spare any lemons? And maybe whatever that henna stuff is?"

"Interested in changing up your looks?" Yasu asked nonchalantly, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. "Really, you're already too pretty as it is. But fine, I suppose I can't say no to a pretty face." Madara flushed heavily at his words, standing awkwardly as Yasu disappeared into the building, returning with a small bag in hand. "Keep the lemon juice on longer if you want lighter hair. The henna doesn't work that well on darker tones. You'll need to reapply it every month if you want to keep it a different color."

"Thank you, Yasu-san," Madara bowed, pleased. This solved one of his problems. With this natural way of dyeing his hair, he wouldn't have to worry about other shinobi sensing a genjutsu on him.

"Anything for such a pretty man," Yasu simpered at him, laughing when Madara let out a startled cough.

"Ah, Fujio-san!" Yoshi's boisterous voice interrupted Yasu's teasing, the grinning man finally exiting the 'inn'.

"What an interesting name for an interesting man," Yasu teased once more before turning his charm onto Yoshi. "So sad to see you go, Yoshi-san."

"You'll see me soon enough, Yasu-san!" Yoshi laughed, his belly jiggling as he huffed. "Yui-chan has held my heart for years and she will hold it for many more!"

"I'm sure that's not the only thing she's holding," Yasu responded, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Ha ha!" Yoshi howled, patting Yasu roughly on the shoulder. "Enough out of you, Yasu-san, before I bust my gut! Come along, Fujio-san, and I'll introduce you to the rest of the caravan!"

Madara followed after the chuckling man, giving Yasu a brief nod in goodbye. Yasu smirked at him, a sharp look in his eyes as he wiggled his finger in return, a sharp snicker leaving him as Madara's face turned red once more.

Madara stayed silent as he walked behind Yoshi, his mind wandering back to the way Yasu's newly auburn hair shone brilliantly in the early morning sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, did you think this chapter was about the nara clan? no no no this chapter was about gaining hair care tips from a male prostitute! yasu, because I love him, might make an appearance later on. he wasn't planned but after I started describing the inn owner, I quickly realized that it was an 'inn' (aka a brothel—everyone's just being all prudish about it lol) sorry to those who expected more from the naras lol


	5. v. sound off the sirens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sound Off The Sirens - Sam Tinnesz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so madara is now traveling with a caravan to the land of wind- I wonder how ThATS going to go?
> 
> edit: changed some tenses

* * *

**ab·solve**

* * *

**v. sound off the sirens**

While on the road, Yoshi took the time to introduce him to the other merchants in the caravan. He helpfully explained that he sold luxury products, like silk and leather. His friend Yūki helped create jewelry with his wife who wass, oddly enough, _also_ named Yuki.

"I've tried getting their story out of them a hundred and one times!" Yoshi laughed, shaking his head as he urged the ox pulling along his cart. "All they do is look lovingly at each other and refuse to tell me."

Yoshi also mentioned that his cousin was usually one of their regular traveling companions, but that he was currently waylaid at home. He had instead sent his son, Yoshirō, with their collection of homemade perfumes.

"Don't be put off if he doesn't speak with you much. This is his first time traveling alone without his father. A bit odd, that one, but he's sweet. I don't recommend startling him though. He frightens easy," Yoshi informed him, glancing back to the very last cart in their caravan. "He doesn't much like other people, though he tries his hardest to be as polite as he can be."

The last two merchants were actually twins: Yōko and Yūko. Madara eyed them as Yoshi pointed to them, taking in their garb. They wear large hats reminiscent of the standard Akatsuki uniform and they were unknowingly making Madara far tenser than he wanted to be.

"They own land with some pretty decent metal veins. Iron ore and whatnot. I've seen some of the swords they've made. They're only selling some of the refined ore on this trip, though. Don't want to tempt thieves more than they already are."

"What do you mean?" Madara asked.

"We haven't had any trouble while on Nara land, but a few months ago when we were heading to the Land of Wind, we were ambushed by some shinobi. They attacked my cousins' cart and got him in the side. It's why he's stuck at home and had to send Yoshirō with his perfumes."

 _That sounds...odd?_ Madara thought, narrowing his eyes slightly. Why would a group of shinobi attack the _perfume cart_? Surely if they had been watching the group long enough to plan an ambush, they would know that one of the carts had workable metal as cargo?

"We're currently headed to a village just on the outskirts of the Land of Wind," Yoshi continued, unaware of Madara's sudden suspicions.

The group around him continued on their way, the ox pulled carts setting a steady pace of travel. Madara walked beside Yoshi's cart at the head of the caravan, turning down a ride but still willing enough to talk to the man.

"Where did the shinobi attack happen again?" Madara asked, still trying to wrap his head around what exactly a shinobi would want with civilian luxury items. Metal and leather would be useful, but Yoshi had said it was the _perfume_ wagon that had been targeted. That made absolutely zero sense to Madara. No shinobi would willingly leave a scent trail behind, which means they wouldn't wear perfume.

"In the middle of our trip, somewhere in the Land of Rivers. We had stayed an extra day in Gurētobarē Village and had fallen behind schedule. We were trying to rush to get to the market before it opened," Yoshi explained. "I only got a glimpse of a couple of them. They were fast bastards!"

"And these shinobi went after _perfume_?" Madara asked, skeptical. He didn't know how many times he was going to have to ask it before it made sense to him.

"Ah," Yoshi chuckled. "You've caught us. These items aren't just the typical luxury items," Yoshi elaborated while pulling out a small square of fabric from his inner pocket and handing it over to Madara. Madara rubbed his finger along the silk, surprised to find it far more durable than regular silk usually was. "You see," Yoshi continued, "we all specialize in shinobi luxury products. My silk and leather are reinforced with chakra. A secret family technique! Yūki and Yuki specialize in jewelry that can withstand attack elemental attacks. Young Yoshirō's father has Inuzuka ancestors and has developed a type of perfume that can confuse and disorient anyone tracking the person wearing it. The twins are rather talented at weapon smithing, but they mostly focus on gathering and selling metal to those that wish to form their own chakra weapons."

 _And that would do it_ , Madara thought, stunned.

Madara finally realized why they would ask a shinobi and not a samurai or regular guard to protect them and why a group of shinobi would attack a perfume cart. Whoever knew about the items being moved would certainly try and get their hands on these products. The theft of items that could benefit a shinobi clan was a common occurrence during this time. It still happened even after Konoha was formed, though it was usually by clans unaffiliated with the newly formed large shinobi hidden villages.

"We can usually protect ourselves from a bandit or two," Yoshi continued, taking back the square when Madara offered it, "but we are not, in any way, shinobi. I think I'm the one with the most chakra out of all of us and I'm nothing compared to even a shinobi child."

"Yeah, I can see why you've requested a shinobi guard," Madara admitted, taking Yoshi's small laugh as an indicator for the conversation to be over.

Falling back to walk towards the end of the caravan, Madara reached into the bag he had tied to the obi wrapped around his waist. As carefully as he could, he pulled out the two lemons Yasu had handed him earlier that morning. He struggled for a moment before he forced his thumbnail into the rind of the lemon, successfully pulling it apart. Juices squirted around his invading fingers, but he ignored it, taking in a deep breath before bring the lemon halves up to his head and squeezing. Cold juice rained down onto his scalp and he quickly started rubbing it into his hair. He did the same with the other lemon, storing both ruined lemons in the bottom of his bag for the moment. He would pull the seeds from the fruit later. He might even be able to trade them with a farmer for something useful later on.

His short hair felt sticky across his forehead and he pointedly ignored the odd look he was getting from Yoshi's young cousin, who kept glancing back at him. He supposed a teen like Yoshirō must find this mindless traveling boring, especially as he was the youngest one here and without his father to act as a buffer. Madara carefully followed the caravan, making sure to walk in the sun as they go along. He decided to leave the lemon juice in his hair for the entire day; his hair was far darker than Yasu's was and, if he had any hope of the henna mask working, he needed his hair as light as he could realistically make it.

The rest of the first day of traveling went much the same as their morning started, the group of friendly travelers chatting among themselves. It would take two weeks to reach the Land of Wind at the pace they were going. It annoyed Madara slightly, as he could travel there much faster on his own, but there wasn't anything he could do. They might sell shinobi items, but they themselves were civilians. They would travel at whatever pace they wished.

They eventually stopped to set up camp next to a river bed an hour or two before sunset. He made sure no one was in the area setting up an ambush, before he went down the river a few meters, grimacing as he took some of the chilly water and rinsed the sticky substance from his hair. He checked the container of henna, carefully reading the instructions Yasu had left on a small note. It seemed like he would need some of the lemon juice, as well as warm water. He carefully set the lemon halves in with the container of henna, humming slightly as he cupped some water in his hands. He closed his eyes, concentrating. It tok only a few seconds before the water in his hands started to rapidly heat up. Pleased, he let it drop into the henna container. He mixed it together with a stray stick, adding a bit more heated water before letting the mixture sit and thicken.

He left it at the river bank, doing a simple patrol of the area. A large tent had been set up at the campsite when he returned, the merchants sat around a crackling fire.

"Ah, Fujio-san! I see Yasu-san has been sharing hair care tips with you as well? He once convinced me that I would look good with green hair—I didn't, mind you — but we both got a good laugh out of it!" Yoshi shared as soon as he saw him, openly admiring whatever color Madara's hair had turned.

Madara snorted at the story, believing every word of it. Yasu seemed like the kind of man who could convince anyone of anything, if only simply to get the man to stop his flirting for a moment or two.

"Will you be setting up your bed roll in the tent with us, Fujio-san?" Yuki asked, her head resting against her husband's shoulder.

"No," Madara replied politely, giving her a bland smile. "I'll set up outside to keep an eye on everything."

"If you get cold, there are some extra blankets in our cart," Yūko offered from her place next to her twin.

"Thank you," Madara responded. He quickly made sure everyone was settled in before he headed back to the river bank. The mixture had cooled while he was gone, so he very carefully started channeling chakra into his hands, converting it into hot air. He was wary of the clay container breaking under the heat, but it withstood the steady temperature well enough. Once the paste was hot, Madara carefully tested it on his wrist before nodding to himself and scooping some of the paste out, rubbing it into his hair. It was dark now, so he couldn't see if he was missing any spots in his hair, but he was careful not to stain his forehead or his ears. He didn't need to be walking around with obvious dye spots; they would be a clear giveaway that he had changed his hair color.

He stayed up for several more hours, telling the others goodnight as they individually headed into the group tent. He finally washed the henna out of his hair when the crescent moon was high in the sky, the cool water now freezing as it sent goosebumps along his skin. He opted out of using his bedroll for the night, instead making his way onto a branch that hung over the tent. He was the last one asleep and the first one awake when the early morning sunshine startled him out of his slumber. He let out a large yawn, still tired, but he immediately went to patrol the area once more.

Pleased when he confirmed they were still alone in the area, Madara took advantage of the quiet morning and forces himself to clean off in the cold lake, scrubbing the dirt from his skin. He cleaned his stained clothes at the same time, happy that he had woken up in the past wearing simple clothes: a short dark purple yukata with a black obi and baggy black pants. He dried himself off with some heated wind, chakra dancing as it was once more at full capacity. He smiled slightly, enjoying the feeling, before he also quickly dried his clothes, not wanting to be caught standing around naked by the caravan he was protecting. He dressed and finally took the time to check his reflection in the water.

The sun had finally risen enough to give the slowly moving water enough to light to reflect his image. His image was distorted by the ripples, but he was able to at least identify the color his hair had been dyed. Where his hair had once been a blue-tinted black, it was now a dark auburn color that looked almost purple under the right lighting. Satisfied with the results, Madara returned to the camp, greeting a yawning Yoshirō as he messily ate the dried fish his cousin had provided him. Madara took his own share, patiently waiting for the others before they finally departed, once more on their way. He got several compliments on his new hair, but he always demurred when anyone asked him why he changed the color.

The rest of the first week of their trip went much the same as the first day, a boring journey surrounded by inane conversation. Yoshi was kind enough to ask after him every morning over some breakfast, but for the most part Madara kept to the edges of the group, ever watchful of any attackers that might be pursuing them. He was still getting used to his new hair, always spooked whenever he saw himself in the reflection that a water source provided.

He had been taking the time to make plans in his head, calculating the funds he was going to need to purchase the things he was planning on using. His father had been awful with the Uchiha clan finances and it had fallen to Madara to take care of the money the clan made. While the Uchiha had always been a known force, they had had to find ways around having less money than the other larger clans. Every clan member, regardless of gender or position, had to learn to sow and cook, activities that were usually left to women or servants in richer clans. The Uchiha didn't have the funds to keep up with most gender roles. Madara, while the clan leader, had kept the attitude of brushing off gender roles, but still improving the money situation. The Uchiha under him had been able to eat every day, something that his father couldn't claim. Suffice to say, Madara was good at managing money.

They were on the third day of his second week with them and were only a half of a day away from the border shared between the Land of Fire and the Land of Rivers. No long stops were had, Yoshi telling Madara that they didn't want to chance being late once more. They were only three days away from the reported location of their stop, when Madara's heartbeat picked up, his eyes sharp as he picked up his pace. He approached Yoshi's cart at the head of the caravan, calmly telling him to call for a break. Yoshi looked at him, confused, as they had already agreed on prearranged times for breaks. Madara shot him a look, causally looking around the grassy valley they have found themselves in, the dip in the earth surrounded by high peaked mountains. Catching the hint, Yoshi cheerfully announced to the group that it was time for lunch.

Madara enhanced his senses with chakra, wary, and it was only a second longer before he had to redirect several kunai with a stray rock. Madara readied his stance, standing in between the caravan and the attackers. It was when he saw the Senju typical Vajra bared on the three shinobi that he felt his heart plummet into his stomach. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> madara has purpley-auburn hair and is confronted, head on, with his past. :D also sorry for any weird edits, i did this entire thing on mobile lol


End file.
